This Is Never Gonna Work
by ImaTVJunkie
Summary: short scribbling based loosely on Booth's first meeting with Brennan. (POTSOTW) as I often say, I don't claim to write Canon very well. It's simply a little story.
1. Chapter 1

Booth stood at the door of his apartment, his hands both full, his keys gripped between his teeth. He bent down and put the paper bag with his dinner on the floor and pulled the keys from his mouth and inserted the old brass key into the lock and turned it. He pushed the door open and stared into the darkness. He sighed audibly as he pulled the key from the lock and pushed the keys into his pants front pocket before bending down and picking up his dinner and stepped through the doorway. Flicking the light switch with his elbow, the room was immediately bathed with a soft yellow glow from the single globe hanging from the ceiling. It flickered for a moment and Booth stared up at it, waiting for it to die. It didn't thankfully, _I better replace that tomorrow_ he thought.

He dropped his suits, collected from the dry cleaners during the day, over the back of the couch and walked over to the table and put down the bag of Chinese food. He opened it and looked inside and groaned. "Again?" he said as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged in a drawer only to find one single chopstick. He threw it towards the trash can, missing it and sighed again. He pulled a fork from the cutlery drawer and walked back to the table and stood staring at the bag for a moment before picking it up and walking back to the couch and dropping heavily onto it.

He leaned back for a moment, the paper bag resting on his knee. He could feel the heat from the food seeping through the containers into his leg. The warmth was quite comforting. He leaned forwards, placing the bag on the low coffee table in front of him and started pulling small white cardboard containers out of it, lining them up in front of him. He began salivating as he began opening the containers, but quickly stopped as he realised he had the wrong order. "God dammit! How many more times do we have to do this?" he yelled to nobody. He started closing the containers up with the thought that he was going to go back to the restaurant and demand his money back, but then realised that he was really hungry, and he had perfectly edible food right there, hot and steamy, and his stomach growled loud enough to make him rethink that idea.

He looked at his watch. 10:45pm. The restaurant would be closed now. He probably shouldn't have stopped off at the pool hall for that not so quick game before grabbing his dinner. "I might as well eat it" he muttered reluctantly, opening the containers again, lifting them up and sniffing suspiciously at each one.

Booth was a creature of habit when it came to Chinese food. He liked the House Special Fried Rice. He liked the Mushu Pork, and he liked the Ribs. What he had wasn't any of these things. What he was staring at was plain steamed rice, _and what is the point?_ he thought shaking his head. Some sort of, _what is that?_ he wondered, leaning down and smelling the yellow tinged chunks. _Lemon chicken? Ugh. And no ribs._ He poked at the egg rolls in the last container. But it was still hot and it was in front of him. And he was hungry. He picked up the fork and stabbed at the lemon chicken, he held it up in front of him and inspected the cube of meat, dripping with a yellow sticky citrusy sauce then shoved it into his mouth, chewing with absolutely no enthusiasm.

Twenty minutes later he was leaning back, semi-slumped on the couch, channel surfing through a series of mindless infomercials and reality TV programs. He almost gave up when he came across an old war movie with Rock Hudson, A Farewell To Arms. He checked the online guide, it had only started ten minutes ago. He smiled and pulled a pillow behind his head and used his foot to slide the empty food containers to one side of the coffee table. He wriggled his toes, wincing as a familiar pain stabbed across the arch of his right foot. He stared at the bright green and purple stripes of his socks as the pain subsided, and then allowed his eyes to focus on the TV screen beyond his feet. _Good ol' Rock. All class_ he thought as he watched the movie, belly full and finally relaxed.

Booth opened one eye. It rolled around in its socket taking in his surroundings. It took a minute to work out that he was still in the living room. He started to sit up, but the pain in his neck and shoulders made him groan. He stopped moving for a moment, knowing he was going to have to mentally prepare himself for the pain that would engulf him as he lifted himself from the awkward position he had slept in. _Why? Why didn't I just go to bed and forget the movie? _ He thought as he gritted his teeth and sat forwards, wrapping his hands around his shins and let the pain subside.

He sighed loudly and pressed his hands into the couch and pushed himself up into a hunched over standing position, his hands on his thighs. "Oh God" he moaned as he wrapped his hands around his hips and leaned backwards, stretching his back "Holy Mother!" Booth looked down at the empty containers from last night's dinner, then shook his head and turned and shuffled towards the bathroom. His feet registering their objections with each step.

Booth's body had been ravaged over the years by injuries sustained on the job. His feet, well, he didn't like to talk about that. Torture, any torture is not something one liked to reminisce about. His back and shoulder, well that was wear and tear and a bullet or two. His knees, well that was partly an old sporting injury from his college years and more wear and tear. "I guess you're getting old Booth" he muttered as he walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, running one hand through his mussed hair, then rubbing at the light stubble on his chin "Nah, that can wait another day" he thought, dismissing the idea of shaving.

He turned on the shower and began stripping off yesterday's clothing and dropping it into the hamper in the corner. Reaching into the shower he tested the temperature then turned and walked into the bedroom, opening a drawer in the old dresser and grabbing some clean underwear and socks and walked back to the bathroom, dropping the clean garments onto the closed lid of the toilet. He stepped into the shower, feeling the heat of the water pulsing against his skin. He allowed himself to exhale fully, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "oh yeah" he groaned, tilting his head from side to side, the water, like tiny warm fingers massaging his skin.

He let his mind finally get some focus while standing under the water and tried to remember what he had on his plate for the day. He knew that Camille was in town. She was working as the coroner in New York city and she had requested him to come to meet with her first thing in the morning. He sighed, wondering if it was business or he was in trouble over the fact that he had ignored her last three invitations to go for a drink. Sure, they had dabbled in the dating a work colleague scene, not overly successfully. It was always just too awkward when they were around other people. Camille was just so uptight about people knowing that she was sleeping with someone within the department. _Camille is uptight full stop_ he thought as he rinsed shampoo from his hair.

Wrapping a towel around his hips, he stood in front of the mirror, wiping it with his forearm, trying to clear the mist, revealing his hair, wildly curling around his forehead. He grabbed another towel and roughly rubbed his head until his hair was just damp. Opening the mirrored cabinet he pulled a pot of hair product out and opened it, his fingers scooping up a dollop of the green gel. He rubbed the gel between his fingers and then began working the product into his hair, combing it, smoothing it, until he was satisfied that it looked exactly as it had yesterday, and the day before that, and the week before that.

He nodded and put the pot of gel away and pulled the towel from his hips and quickly dried his upper thighs and threw the towel on top of his dirty clothes from yesterday.

Slipping on his clean underwear and then sitting on the closed lid of the toilet to pull on his yellow, orange and blue striped socks. "OK. Breakfast" he muttered as he left the bathroom stopping to slip his feet into his old brown slippers.

Booth liked breakfast. _Most important meal of the day_ he always told himself. Sometimes it was the only meal of the day depending on how busy he was. He tried to remember to stop and eat lunch, but sometimes, it just didn't happen. He busied himself making eggs and toast and coffee. "Oh yeah coffee" he muttered out loud as the beeper sounded on the coffee maker. He poured it into his extra large mug and sniffed loudly, drawing in the hot steamy aroma. He took a large, loud slurp and closed his eyes, swirling the hot black liquid around his mouth before swallowing and then smacking his lips together loudly, "Ahhhh That's the stuff" he said grinning.

After eating his breakfast standing at the kitchen sink, he quickly grabbed a clean shirt, pulling it from the dry cleaner's plastic cover and pulled on a pair of dark navy suit pants. He stood in front of the full length mirror in the corner of his room and watched himself buttoning up the shirt, starting at the bottom button, working his way meticulously up to the collar, tucking it in, smoothing it around his body. He zipped up his trousers and slid the black belt through the loops and buckled it up. He stood looking at himself for a moment, the shrugged and headed to dresser, shoving the St Christopher medallion he always carried, along with a set of dice and a $100 poker chip into his pocket. He pulled a dark grey tie from the top drawer of his dresser and hung it around his neck. He grabbed his car keys, and pulled his suit jacket from the coat rack by the door and left to make an early morning appointment before meeting Camille.

A phone call interrupted his early morning game. He knew he shouldn't have been there. He sighed and made a promise to himself that he would go to a GA meeting later that day, as he took the cash from the guy he had just beaten in a game of pool. It was the mother of a dead girl, whose case he had been working on. It had come to a dead end as far as he could see. He hated that. It was a tricky thing with these split jurisdiction cases.

His meeting with Camille didn't go quite the way he thought. She suggested he work with someone from the Jeffersonian. Some scientific nerd person, a forensic anthropologist, who, specialised in working out how people died by looking at their bones. He shuddered. _That's just weird. _ He wasn't going to go along with it, but something Camille said resonated with him "same activity, same results". He'd been going over and over this case for months. So he caved and agreed to at least meet with the nerd.

He got her name and headed to American University where he found her lecturing on something about getting flesh from bones, or something equally creepy. He had prepared himself for some middle aged woman, greying hair, with glasses, probably snooty. He wasn't prepared for the woman he found.

Booth had felt his heard do a double beat and his mouth become dry when he looked up and saw Temperance Brennan standing up on that stage lecturing about bones and stuff that he couldn't remember. He could, however, remember exactly what she was wearing, what colour her hair was, and those eyes. Those incredibly electric blue eyes that stared at him with what he later realised was disinterest. He was also taken aback by her rather humourless response to his question. Booth remembered thinking _Really? You're serious? _When she had touted herself as being the best in the world in her field. He'd never met anyone quite like her. And as he introduced himself to her he found himself wondering out loud "Do you believe in fate?" Her response was given with a smile on her face "Absolutely not".

Surprisingly, she had proven herself to be extremely good at her job, identifying and providing Booth with a fairly accurate description of the girl and her injuries without having being given anything other than her bones. Booth had been extremely impressed and had decided to give the whole partnership thing a go. Her response, once again had thrown him a little. Telling him, that he would benefit greatly from his association with her. He was fascinated by this strange, seemingly, humourless woman with the magnetic eyes.

What he did enjoy immensely was her incredible ability to get common sayings completely wrong. He had a hard time stopping himself from laughing when she wanted to come and watch him broil a suspect. He had tried to explain it was grill the suspect, but the look on her face pretty much convinced him she really had no clue what she had said wrong.

Their working relationship wasn't all smooth sailing. He continually irritated her with his insistence on calling her Bones. He tried to explain that nicknames were very common within the FBI. It was a sign of friendship between people. That nicknames were usually given because of some redeeming quality in the person. She worked with bones all day, so Bones seemed to be the perfect nickname for her. She had stared at him blankly then looked down and commented that his sensible FBI issue shoes were very shiny. Therefore she supposed she should call him Shoes. _She really just didn't get it_ he decided. Dr Brennan would constantly bang on about facts and science. Booth was a gut guy. He used his senses, and relied heavily on how he felt. His instincts. His heart. She just didn't understand it. At all.

He shook his head, _this is never gonna work_ found himself thinking.

And of course he was right. It hadn't worked.

Looking back later, she was, he acknowledged, nothing short of brilliant. And, very attractive. He let himself think back to that night at the bar. He had plied her with alcohol intentionally. Caroline had ordered him to sack her and her team part way through the investigation. Booth had not wanted to do it, but when Caroline said jump, well you damn well better leap.

She had just seemed so soft that night. Her stiffness, subsided. Those eyes had stared into his, her face illuminated by the soft lights in the bar. Her mouth. He was imagining how those lips would feel under his. Then she had suggested they leave together. His hopes rose. They weren't officially working together now. What would one night in this woman's arms matter now?

But standing out in the rain, her face inches from his, one night suddenly didn't seem enough. He actually had thought for a moment that this woman could BE someone to him. And then everything swirled into a blur of muted colour and sensation around him as her lips finally met his.

She tasted like honey. Smelled like summer. She was soft and pliable in his arms. She fitted against his body like she was made for him. Then suddenly, she pulled away and he was left standing on the kerb, the flickering lights of the bar illuminating the night as she drove away in a cab.

Shortly after that night, Dr Brennan and her team had been put back on the job. They cracked the case. Found the murderer, mostly thanks to Dr Brennan's work.

But she had irritated him while talking with the victim's mother. She had started bringing up things about not having enough evidence, which distressed the mother. He had strong armed her out of the room. They had gotten into a fight about him being a bully, and her making people feel stupid.

She had slapped him.

His hand lifted to his face absently remembering the sting of her hand against his face. Remembering the flash of her eyes as she told him she hated him, and the flick of her hair as she stormed out of the room.

_Thank god I never have to work with her again._ he thought to himself as he finalised the paperwork and closed the case. He sat in his office and spun the poker chip on the desktop watching it whirling around until it finally slowed and settled. He took a breath, picked up the chip and dropped it into his pocket and left the building.

Booth instinctively headed towards the pool hall. He got about half way there, then, had a thought. He stood for a moment, his hand pushed into his pocket, fingers rolling the dice around. He turned around and walked quickly in the opposite direction. He finally stopped outside an old brownstone building. He looked up at the sign by the door "GA Everyone Welcome".

He sighed and pushed the door open. "Maybe it's time" he thought as he walked through the doorway, "I guess it's time".


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a little over a year since he had seen her.

The last time he had, she had slapped him, screamed in his face that she hated him and ran out the door.

He hadn't thought about her for a long time. Not until this case. He needed help. Her help.

* * *

><p>Booth had convinced Deputy Director Cullen to allow him to enlist the help of Doctor Temperance Brennan on a case. He had been questioned at length as to why he even wanted a new partner. Well, technically, an old partner. And yes, that would make three in the last twelve months. He had been reminded several times that he didn't play well with others. Perhaps it was that the others didn't play well with him. Anyway, he had acknowledged that he wasn't going to even have a hope in hell of solving this case if he didn't get some outside help. And, she was the best in her field. He suspected it wasn't going to be easy, given their past history and all. It had taken some fast talking. But eventually Cullen agreed.<p>

Now all he had to do was convince her.

_Now that? That was going to take some doing_.

* * *

><p>Booth woke up early. He lay looking up at the crack in the ceiling above his bed. Inhaling deeply, he sat up, with the usual groan, and swung his legs so he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He pressed his hands into the mattress as he flexed his feet then bent his toes under and pressed them down into the old rug next to his bed, cracking the toe joints. "Oh boy. Yep. OK" he muttered as he pushed his feet into his old brown slippers and leaned forwards, letting his weight pull him forwards off the bed, his hands pressed into his thighs. He took a deep breath and straightened up. His back silently groaning. He stood upright, his eyes closed and stretched his arms above his head. He forced himself to do a few basic stretching exercises to release the muscles that had tightened up overnight, then slowly shuffled his way to the bathroom where he went through his daily ablutions.<p>

Nothing really had changed over the last year, except his hair. His current, friend, for want of a better word, Tessa, had talked him into changing his sleek combed over style to a shorter, spiked up version. He had resisted at first, but after getting a few compliments at work, he decided that perhaps it wasn't so bad. Tessa had told him he looked younger. That was enough to convince him to go with it.

He had been seeing Tessa for about three months now. A record, as far as his recent relationship history went. There had been a couple of dalliances with Camille Saroyan over the last year, before meeting Tessa. Each time Camille came to town, she called him, they met for a drink and ended up in bed. It was a habit, he supposed, but a fun one. They didn't really want anything else from each other. At least, he didn't. Maybe she did. He wasn't going to ask. There was also a very short, but intense, fling with an English photographer he met by chance at a GA meeting.

He had met Tessa at the federal courthouse. She was a lawyer. A pretty good one. He was giving evidence on another case and they had been sitting in the cafeteria eating a late lunch. They were pretty much the only ones in there. She had smiled at him and he had thought she was attractive and grinned back. He had picked up his sandwich and sidled over and asked if she minded if he sat next to her. She blushed and nodded. That was pretty much it. They had started seeing each other pretty regularly after that. He liked her company. She was easy to be around. She understood his hours and she also got that when he didn't want to talk, he didn't want to talk. He figured things had been going OK.

Booth showered, did his hair and dressed in a powder blue shirt and charcoal trousers. He walked out into the kitchen. Tessa had left a note for him. She had gone for a run and was going to shower at work. He sighed. She was doing that a bit more often lately. He shrugged, it was probably a sign of something, but he didn't really know what and he really didn't have time to think about it right now. He poured a mug of coffee, that she had thankfully made, and dropped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. He looked in the refrigerator, _no eggs, dammit._ He realised that was his fault. He was supposed to have gone to the market on the way home yesterday. He hadn't. _Toast it is then_ he muttered as he smeared peanut butter onto the warm slices of bread, sandwiched them together and pushed it into his mouth, gripping it with his teeth as he grabbed his keys, jacket and tie and left for work.

* * *

><p>Booth arrived at the office of Homeland Security. He could hear voices inside, raised, but muffled. He stood outside the door and closed his eyes. Took a couple of deep breaths and pushed it open, sidling through it and standing against the wall quietly. Finally, he was noticed.<p>

"What are you doing here?" she'd asked, _with that tone_ in her voice. He'd forgotten about that. He hadn't forgotten how her eyes flashed when she was angry.

"FBI, Special Agent Seeley Booth, Major Crime Investigation in DC." he said, automatically rattling off his credentials and flashing his official ID at the DHS Officer. "Bones identifies bodies for us. She also writes books." He slid the book he had been holding under his arm across the table and waited. He could feel her eyes on him. He tried not to look down at her, rather, staring at the book.

"Don't call me Bones" she hissed at him. He felt the corners of his mouth tug. _Don't laugh. Don't laugh_ he repeated to himself, making himself look at the DHS Officer who was clearly excited to be holding one of Doctor Temperance Brennan's books.

Once released into his care, Brennan had stomped ahead of him to the car and pulled at the handle trying to open the door. Booth followed at his own pace, grinning at her obvious frustration with the still locked door. He reluctantly pressed the button on the remote. She was so annoyed with him and the car, she hadn't noticed the click and she almost fell over backwards as the door flew open.

He allowed himself to chuckle out loud as he approached the driver's door. Glad for a moment of comical relief. He took a deep breath and pulled open the car door and got into the driver's seat. She sat in stony silence. _Oh yeah, this is going to be fun _he thought as he pulled the seatbelt across his body. He glanced up and took in her profile. She was staring straight ahead, her jaw jutted forwards, her brow furrowed, one fist balled up resting on her thigh, the other gripping the grab handle above the passenger door.

"You don't need to hold onto the "oh shit" handle you know. I'm a very capable driver" he quipped turning this attention back to the road.

No response. He daren't look at her again. He knew she was furious. Yes, it had been pretty sneaky issuing a Hold For Questioning request to the DHS. He had thought it pretty brilliant to be honest. And frankly, he didn't really know how else he was going to get her to talk to him. His recent phone calls hadn't gotten him any closer than her assistant. Someone, who sounded about twelve, and always managed to disconnect his call.

He finally snuck a glance and saw her frowning up at the grab handle. He smirked and turned his attention back to the road. _She's trying to work out why I called it the oh shit handle, I bet,_ he thought, amused by her confusion.

Finally she spoke, or rather yelled at him about setting her up at the airport.

He had laughed and told her that she should be happy that he had picked her up from the airport and saved her trying to get a taxi. She did not see the funny side. He tried explaining the case he wanted her to work on with him, but she wasn't going to have any of it, demanding he pull the car over. She even threatened him with screaming "kidnap" out the window if he didn't let her out.

Reluctantly he pulled over. _Man she's gonna be hard work _he muttered to himself as he chased her down the street.

She was so annoying, blabbing on about her doctorates and reminding him how big her brain was. He made the mistake of suggesting that she wasn't the only anthropologist in town. Of course she smugly pointed out that she was.

_Damn I should have thought that one through_ he thought as he negotiated the details of her working with him. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he followed her back to the car. He had made a reference to Scully & Mulder from X-Files_. She actually had no idea what that meant! What is it with this woman?_

They hadn't been at the crime scene for more than a few minutes when he had gotten her off side with a crack about how when the cops get stuck they bring in squints. Of course she felt obligated to insult him, before getting to work with her assistant, Zac Addy. _Another nerd, who it seemed, was the twelve year old who had been cutting off his phone calls to Dr Brennan._

* * *

><p><em>Today was long. So damn long <em> he thought as he collapsed onto his sofa that night. He rubbed at his face and then leaned forwards and opened the paper bag from Wong Fu's, his favourite Chinese place. He pulled out the small white cardboard containers and opened them. House special fried rice, Mushu Pork and Ribs. "Mmm, all my favourites" he muttered as he grabbed the included chopsticks and started eating.

He let his thoughts wander to her as he cleaned up the empty containers. She looked good. Better than he had remembered. He chuckled as he recalled her growling at him to stop calling her Bones. _Yeah, that's not gonna happen_ he thought. He shook his head, thinking about how she seemed determined to butt heads with him at every turn. He sighed loudly, thinking that he better turn in and get some rest. Another day, dealing with her tomorrow. He was beginning to wonder if he'd done the right thing requesting her for this case. She was so controlling and didn't value his opinions. She actually scoffed at him when he told her how he has a gut instinct about things. She didn't try to hide her feelings towards him. None of them particularly complimentary.

He climbed into bed and lay, staring at the crack in the ceiling above his bed for a minute, then flicked off the bedside lamp.

_This is never gonna work_


	3. Chapter 3

Booth stared at the menu, occasionally looking over it to see if Tessa had decided what she wanted to order. There was an awkwardness between them lately. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there. He swore he could feel it. The other night she had cooked dinner for him and they had just sat there, not talking. She had said she had a headache. That it wasn't him, it was her. _I wonder what's really going on with her?_ he thought as he watched her.

Tessa lay her menu down closing it and rested her hands on it. Her fingers of her left hand twiddling with the ring on her right hand. She was staring at her hands. Her forehead creased slightly.

"You know what you want?" Booth ventured to ask. She looked up and smiled at him, and he breathed a sigh. He was pretty sure he was in the dog house for standing her up the last three times they had made dinner plans. "I have. And I expect you are still tossing up between the veal or the pasta?" she asked him, her head tilting, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

Tessa Jankow had been dating Booth for around five months. She liked him. Quite a lot actually. He was handsome, funny, brave, strong, had good values and strong faith. He treated her well. She admitted that, at times, his job took precedence, but she had promised herself that she wouldn't make an issue of that. He was an FBI agent after all. His job was demanding at times, and she had learned that keeping regular office hours didn't apply to him.

She didn't live with him, but she did stay over occasionally. His place was small, but neat. Booth had a place for everything and everything was in it's place. He wasn't anal about it, but he was pretty tidy for a guy. She had gotten used to him taking calls in the middle of the night, or in the middle of dinner. Something she hoped wouldn't happen tonight. They hadn't been out for dinner in a really long time. In fact, she'd hardly seen him at all. He'd been swamped at work, and the last few weeks he had also been working with a new partner. A woman called Temperance Brennan, he had told her. Tessa had heard of her. Who hadn't? She was a successful author and a world renowned forensic anthropologist. Booth had told her he thought she was a nerd and that he called her Bones because that's what she did. Play with bones all the time.

Tessa wasn't jealous that he was working with a woman. She worked with men, after all. And she was a confident, successful woman with a great career of her own. She was curious though. She had tried asking him a few questions about her, but he had shut her down, saying he didn't want to talk about Bones, and she had been made to feel that his working relationship with Brennan was none of her business.

Booth finally closed his menu and grinned at her. "I'm gonna have the veal" he said, nodding at her. She waved the waiter over and gave him her order. The man looked at Booth who was still frowning at his menu, "and for sir?" he asked politely. "I'll have the pasta" Booth announced. Tessa hid a smile behind her hand. She shook her head ever so slightly.

"What? Why are you shaking your head?" he asked, not missing the slight movement. She looked at him, his eyes were crinkled at the corners, his white teeth sparkling as he smiled at her. She sighed, loving how he could make her feel just by looking at her, and hating how he made her feel at the same time. "Nothing. I'm just impressed at how quickly you made up your mind tonight." she joked. It was no secret that Booth hated large menus. He could never make up his mind if there were too many choices.

Booth picked up his glass and held it out to her to make a toast. She was just about to lift her own glass when the pealing of his phone broke through the moment. She sat, holding her glass mid air as he slammed his glass down on the table.

"Goddammit!" he growled as he pulled his phone from the breast pocket of his jacket. He flipped the cover and held it to his ear. "Booth" he said shortly. He watched Tessa drain her wine glass and set it down on the table, then, reach down and pick up her purse. She called the waiter over, motioning for the bill.

He sighed, a sinking feeling in his stomach_. I'm sorry _ he mouthed silently while listening to the voice on the other end of the line.

Tessa shrugged and closed her eyes as she pulled her wrap around her shoulders, standing and waiting for him to finish the call. _It was always going to be like this_ she supposed. _The question was, is this what I want?_

* * *

><p>They pulled up outside the club and Booth looked at Tessa. "You want to wait or come in with me?" he offered. She opened the car door and got out without answering him. There was no way she was going to stay in the car. She wanted to see this Temperance Brennan for herself. He held her hand as they descended the narrow stairs. "This cannot be legally up to code" Booth muttered as he helped Tessa off the bottom step.<p>

The club was, typically, dim and dingy, even though the house lights were on. Booth looked around and screwed up his nose. There was a faint odour in the air. Unpleasant, cloying. A mixture of sweat and cheap perfume. And meth. He noted the film of dust covering everything. He looked around until he saw her.

Brennan was wearing a pair of tight pants, a tiny clingy top that showed off her body perfectly, her hair was pulled up into a pony tail, and she looked. He swallowed, _different, _to how she looked at work he thought.

Tessa saw that swallow. She noted how his eyes grazed over her from head to toe and back up again. She looked at Temperance Brennan, noting the high cheekbones, the large light blue eyes, her athletic build. She sighed and stared down at her new shoes, her hands smoothing across the front of the expensive little black dress she had bought especially for their dinner tonight.

Brennan had spoken barely half a dozen words to Booth, when he realised, _she's completely stoned._ He was amused by the thought that he would have quite the time reminding her of this tomorrow.

"Are you high?" he asked, unable to conceal his amusement.

Angela, who was there with Brennan, and acting just as oddly, answered for her "Only by accident. So it doesn't count" she almost yelled at him.

Brennan was looking Tessa up and down, then turned to him. "Why'd you bring her? This isn't much of a date." she said, her tone also confirming she was indeed, high.

Tessa smiled at Brennan "Well we were in the middle of dinner when Seeley got the call. Do you realise your pupils are enormous?", she said, looking closely at her, then Brennan turned and started running around trying to stop a police officer from disturbing the remains of the body embedded in the wall cavity.

A quick look around the scene in front of him and Booth knew that he would be busy for several hours. He turned and looked at Tessa, standing alone by the stairs. He took a deep breath and walked over to her.

"I know Seeley, you're going to be late and I should just get a cab home" she said, trying not to sound sulky.

"yeah, I'm sorry Tess." he started to say, but she held up a hand, trying to smile.

"I'm just going to go home to my place tonight. You have your hands full here and I have a case tomorrow" she said, walking with him back to the stairs. "I'll come back to your place when I'm finished. We'll get icecream." he said.

Tessa shook her head. "It might be too late. You should just go home Seeley. I'll call you tomorrow. We'll have dinner another night." She said kissing him lightly on the cheek. Booth stood and watched her climb the stairs.

He exhaled loudly, then turned and looked around the club. He stood watching Brennan for a moment, then smiled and went to start trying to get her to tell him what happened. It wasn't long and the owners arrived. _It's gonna be a long, long night_ Booth thought as he set about starting to gather details.

* * *

><p>Booth opened the door of his apartment and entered, not even bothering to switch on the light. He hadn't been home in two days. It was one of those times when he had been on the job non stop. He'd crashed on a chair in his office, his feet propped up on a coffee table, his jacket as a makeshift blanket, and grabbed a few hours sleep.<p>

He stood under the shower and let the water pound the tension out of his neck and shoulders. _Man, that feels good_ he thought as some of the stiffness eased. He quickly washed his hair and rinsed off, stepping out onto the mat. He grabbed a towel and roughly dried most of the water from his body, then dropped the towel in the dirty laundry basket and wandered out into the living room. He stood in the middle of the room and stretched his arms above his head.

_Damn. I wonder if I should call Tess? Just apologise?_ he thought as he absently scratched at his bare buttock. He looked at the clock. "maybe not. too late to fix things" he muttered as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and pulled a beer out. He sat on the couch and picked up the remote and turned on the TV, surfing through channels.

* * *

><p>Earlier that day he'd been part of a very awkward conversation with Tessa and Angela. They had been talking about their impending vacation to Jamaica. Booth had been very excited for it. Snorkelling, kayaking, sunbaking, cocktails. He thought Tessa had been too. It had been booked for weeks. But then Angela had started talking about it being a trial before moving in together. <em>What the hell was that all about? Nobody had said anything about moving in together. It was a vacation. That's it. <em> Tessa had acted all weird and kind of shut down and when he kissed her goodbye, she hadn't kissed him back. And then later that day Tessa had called him and told him that something had come up at work and that she wasn't going to be able to go with him to Jamaica. That, she wasn't sure she wanted to see him anymore, actually. He had asked her not to make any rash decisions. To take a bit of time and think about it. They could still date. If neither of them wanted anything more serious, they would work with that, right? Tess had told him that she'd think about it. He was cool with that.

Bones had met him at the bar tonight after work. He'd been sipping a cocktail and watching the news when she'd arrived. She asked how things were going, and he had told her. She had suggested that he should just go anyway. She apparently liked going on vacation by herself. Another indicator that she's weird he thought. He had made some joke about going on vacation and thinking that you never wanted to go back to work. That you would just run away with the person you were with. Bones hadn't understood what he was talking about. She loved work. Hell, she went on vacations that involved her looking at bones.

He smiled and shook his head as he turned the TV off and stood up. He placed the empty beer bottle on the coffee table and headed to the bathroom to relieve himself before going to bed.

He flopped backwards onto the mattress and let out a loud moan. "Ahhhh finally, my own bed!" he exclaimed as he adjusted the pillows under his head.

He stared at the crack in the ceiling and sighed "Maybe Tess and I are never gonna work?" as he closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Booth flinched as Brennan shifted her position on the edge of his hospital bed. He didn't say anything though, he didn't want her to move back to the chair she had been sitting on earlier. He would take all the pain, just for the comfort of feeling her bare arm against his. He snuck a quick glance at her. It had been a tough forty eight hours, he'd been blown up, she had been held hostage and almost shot. The mere fact that either of them were in a fit state emotionally right now was a miracle.

Her head was tilted, leaning against his pillow. He could hear the scrunch of the plastic protector under the pillowslip as she adjusted her hair over the bandage above her eye. They were watching the movie he had randomly chosen. There wasn't much to choose from. It was an old romantic movie. Her mouth was pursed, and he just knew that she was processing the scene in front of them in her mind. Her eyebrows were low over her eyes as she frowned.

"I'm just not sure that she would have said that in real life Booth" she said, not looking at him. She licked her lips and leaned against the pillow a little more. It wasn't a question, requiring an answer.

He smirked and tried to shift just enough so that his head was almost touching hers. He took a deep breath and then held it as the pain from his broken rib surged through him. He didn't make a sound. It passed and he half closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift back over the last couple of months.

* * *

><p>He wouldn't say it had been entirely easy working with Bones. She could be really annoying, with all her scientific reasoning. She completely refused to accept that he could rely on his gut instinct. <em>Just as he had done for the last twenty years or so.<em> According to her there was no scientific evidence to support the human gut being able to influence one's powers of reasoning. Or something like that anyway.

And she was like a dog with a bone about her being issued with a weapon. He was dead against it. She of course wouldn't let it go. Every conversation began with "_I need a gun Booth_."

He smiled, remembering her face when he had told her to use her mutant power, and just talk them the bad guys to death. She had stared at him having absolutely no clue what he was talking about.

He was kind of getting used to working with her. She really knew her stuff, and whilst at times, she would open her mouth at the most inappropriate times, generally, she was an asset out in the field.

He had still been dating Tessa on and off. Something that Brennan kept asking him about much to his annoyance. He didn't understand why his love life interested her so much. He admitted he really wasn't entirely happy with Tessa. They would generally meet at her place. The would eat, talk very little, sometimes they would make love, and he would go home. He never stayed the night. They had been, marking time with each other, he supposed. Something he wasn't exactly comfortable with. But he hadn't wanted to be the one to admit that it hadn't worked out. Tessa had eventually broken up with him. He couldn't honestly say he was upset about it._  
><em>

He breathed out heavily, the murmuring hum of the movie in the background of his thoughts.

Christmas had come, and once again, he was having "_discussions"_ with Rebecca, about him seeing his son for the holidays. Rebecca just continued making life difficult for him. He knew he had a dangerous job. He also knew that he loved his son and wanted to spend more time with him. He was growing up so fast. Booth felt like he'd already missed out on so much. Parker was four years old already! He felt like he'd practically missed the first two years of his life entirely. He hadn't been there when he crawled. He hadn't seen his first steps. He hadn't heard his first word. He didn't want to be shut out any more.

Booth opened his eyes and looked up at the TV for a moment, the movie was still going, Bones was still leaning against him, but her eyes were heavy. He smiled and let his mind drift again.

They'd all gotten stuck inside that damned lab over Christmas. During that time, he had found out that Brennan's folks had abandoned her when she was a teenager. That kind of explained a lot about her.

And after they were finally released, Brennan had gotten to meet Parker. Nobody he worked with had met Parker. Hell, nobody up until that point even knew he had a son. And it pleased him no end that Parker had taken to Bones immediately. But he didn't tell her that.

Weeks passed. Work was work. They seemed to be settling into a rhythm. Not that they didn't have their arguments of course. Like over driving. He was the driver. He was _ALWAYS_ the driver. And true love. Or, the existence of true love. For her, it was a series of chemical reactions in the brain. Hormones, and pheramones, and some other kind of mones. He'd stopped listening.

And then there was the subject of sex. For some reason they seemed to keep having conversations about sex. And again, she would spout off a bunch of "mones" and physiological responses, whereas he talked about feelings and love and commitment. And it hadn't gone unnoticed by Booth that Brennan was never without male attention. And it irked him that he had weird feelings about that.

It was also becoming obvious to their peers that there was a definite "something" going on between them. There were the occasional suggestions, particularly by Angela, who was Brennan's best friend. Both he and her laughed it off. But, to be honest, he had sort of felt this kind of _stirring_ in him. There was no doubt that he was very protective of her. And he wasn't just talking about his job.

* * *

><p>Booth opened his eyes and snuck a glance at her. It just so happened that she was sneaking a glance at him. They both turned back to look at the TV. Booth catching the slight blush on her cheek as she turned away from him.<p>

He settled his head deeper into the pillow, and felt her do the same. Their hair entwining slightly where their heads met.

Booth smiled to himself.

_Yeah. I think this might just work_


End file.
